One More Step
by IROS
Summary: Starsky & Hutch using their best discreetion to get the job done and not losing their friendship on the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: "One more step"

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** Just because it has to be done - I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

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"I'm leaking, Hutch..."

"Hold on, almost there...," the vibrato of Starsky's tone didn't pass unnoticed to his blond friend. The "leaking" meaning he was bleeding too much for his own good.

"Try to keep on walking at the same pace. Don't slow down. I wouldn't mind handing you a hand here, surely we could pass as a loving couple you and I but the last thing we need now is to catch anybody's eye." Hutch didn't have to talk too loud for the quiet of the night to carry his words to his pal.

Both kept on walking at an unsteady pace for two or more solid minutes separated for some ten yards before Hutch risked a backwards glance down the solitary back alley and realized how wet his friends' pants were.

"Your jeans are soaking wet... We stop now. I'll hotwire a car. Wait for me in here."

"No, don't. No. That's not blood..."

"Just wait. I am doing it."

"No. I—I—peed my pants. Couldn't... help it... Not a good sign... though...."

Hutchinson's just kept on walking to the end of the alley and the quiet that surrounded him at that time of the night made it all nice and easy. He had plenty of time during last year's undercover mission to practice how to steal a car in 30 seconds. Force the window of the car to have a good opening. The car door is later unlocked and locked. Then pop the hood, disconnect the battery and look for the ignition cable.

"Done... done... Come to me... Come to me...." he silently worded in Starsky's direction gesturing to his partner.

Starsky began to feel a little stronger as he walked; adrenalin eventually kicking in at the prospect of a lift just around the corner and shaking off some of the dizziness. After a few steps, he was able to push away from the wall and walk mostly upright. He stumbled twice more, the first time catching himself on the wall before he hit the ground but the second time caught him off-guard, sending him sprawling full-length.

"Ooof!" The impact knocked the breath out of him, leaving him shaken and gasping for air. His head spun dizzily, the dark alley feeling like it was tilting and shifting under him, and he clenched his teeth against the rising nausea. He groaned miserably.

Hutch immediately rushed to his side and grabbed Starsky's right arm and pulled hard. "You have to get up. Nearly there now… We can't afford losing any second now. Get up. Somebody must have heard the glass breaking. Get up!"

The dark haired man sucked in a breath and started coughing, the sound rough and painful in his dry throat. He coughed so hard it left him shuddering and blinking dry, gritty eyes. He realized numbly that it was a bad sign that his eyes weren't watering, that it meant he was badly dehydrated.

The coughing fit left him weak, his arms shaking as he tried to push himself up to his hands and knees. "That's it," Hutch encouraged him trying to support as much of his partner's weight as he could. "You can do it."

The brunet made it just about to get hold to the rear mirror of the car for stability before Hutch could open the rear door for him. "Lay down at the rear, buddy... Got to keep moving and fast."

Hutch just allowed himself a quick look at the rear seat when he was comfortable that he was not being followed. Starsky had his legs knee bent in a bundle against the back of the driver's seat and Hutch could feel them trembling against his kidneys, the rest of his partner tightly clutched on himself.

"How is the pain, buddy...?"

"I'm... good... A tad.... dizzy..."

"2 minutes to the safe apartment and there will be someone there already to take good care of you... Hold on. Hold on, buddy."

"Peed... my pants...."

"Already heard you the first time. So what?"

"Something is... so... wrong..."

"You are OK. Just keep going. Keep talking. Almost there."

"Hutch... Hurry up..." The muttered plead had an urgency that made the blonde stomach cringe with awe.

"You know, you still haven't told me what happened to you," Hutch pointed out quietly instead. "I mean, in there…"

Starsky's mind came immediately to attention and he forced to remind himself that this wasn't really Hutch, it was a buddy trying to get him through. "Oh, you... don't want... to hear... about that," Starsky dismissed the question.

"Well, why not?" Hutch pushed. "Obviously you survived…"

"Only because I quit."

Hutch found that hard to believe. The Dave Starsky he knew was the most stubborn, determined, loyal person he'd ever met. He couldn't imagine him ever giving up on a mission, turning his back on him.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 2

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

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Hutch had not entrusted his partner's strength to arrive safely to the apartment on the second floor by his own means and had rather walked him himself all the way along the street discreetly tugging his pal's arm over his shoulders, just looking like a good friend escorting a drunkard home. Until they've got into the safety of the lobby of the apartment's building he didn't stop talking softly to his partner about the past days.

Starsky was almost swaying on his feet by the time Hutch finished telling his side of the story, both from growing exhaustion and from the hollow bleakness of what he was hearing. As soon as Hutch opened the lift door leading to their destination floor, in the blink of an eye, the brunet felt on his knees, breathless, all his determination blown away… he was finally home, some kind of safe port for him after his terrible ordeal and yet, at the same time, he felt he was on the verge of a cliff just then, nowhere to go, his worse fears confirmed after what he just heard from Hutch.

"I'm gonna get some help. Two medics are inside. They can't hear us from there. Hold on, buddy."

"No. No! Don't let me... like this... Wait... Please wait...."

Hutch came back for him, ready to give his friend the few minutes he so badly needed to collect himself now that he knew he wasn't bleeding as badly as he initially thought back on the alley. Meanwhile, Starsky had managed to struggle painfully out of his dusty jacket, dumping it on the floor, and there it was Hutch looking hesitantly towards his partner with bleary eyes at a loss of what to do – or say – next.

Starsky looked back into the hurting eyes of his friend and hoped against hope that this would work, that he could change all the wrongs of the last days with the info he had right then, make the pain and sacrifice written in the lined and wrinkled skin of his blond partner worth it. "You should have taken... that... when I offered, I could have... not made it here... after all," he mumbled inadequately handling to him the little piece of paper he had been nursing carefully hidden under a band aid for two days now.

"Says you. You made it here, now you can give it to me," Hutch decided. "Eyes on the prize at all times, partner."

Through his utter tiredness and ravaging pain, Starsky couldn't help the frisson of fear that ran through him. The thought of trespassing that door behind Hutch back's and being put to sleep by some obscure doctor during the next few minutes made panic rise high on him. What if Hutch's plan didn't work now that he didn't have anything to offer? What if he stepped out of a safe slumber only to choke and die on a cold stalled air of a closed bedroom? What if he ended up further crippled to be of any use to anyone?

"Now if this works," Hutch said, unconsciously echoing the brunet thoughts, "I'll be waiting right here when you come round. We don't have much time to get you all patched up and keep going but I think we can manage it."

Still haunted by the myriad of things that could go wrong, that could destroy this one and only chance to set things straight, Starsky asked hollowly, "And if it doesn't work?"

"Well, you won't feel a thing," Hutch cut him short "The anesthetics they'll be using are so strong that basically, you just… won't wake up," and forced an amused grin in his face that melt in a wide smile to further reassure his pal. "It's time... You are OK now. Let's go."

They stood there, two friends, family, give or take, and suddenly, despite his exhaustion, Starsky didn't want this moment to end, wasn't ready to cross that door and put his life in some stranger's hands just yet.

"In the past years," he blurted, "did you happen to notice how much I hate being put to sleep?"

Hutch looked bemused. "Oh. I don't think so, no." He helped his friend to rise from the floor.

Feeling possibly more afraid than he'd ever been, Starsky asked, "Will you be around? Keep an eye on me while they do the surgery?"

Hutch was apologetic. "I'll be holding your hand all the way through if that's what it takes. Come on. Let's go. They are waiting for you. Time is running against us."

"I am scared, Blintz." Starsky rasped, barely.

Hutch nodded his understanding. There was nothing more to say.

Starsky sighed and blew out a long puff of air as soon as they crossed the long corridor to the 752 apartment door. Hutch opened the door with his own keys but not before making sure his teammate could remain upright. At the other side of the door two large figures in white were tiredly waiting half seating over an improvised stretcher prepared over a large piece of plastic that covered most of the floor of the living room. One of them immediately jumped down and started checking the instrumental laid over the sterile green cloth on an auxiliary table. "This can't be good," Starsky muttered. The goose bumps that immediately stood out the overall fearless friend's skin just at the sound of metal clicking against metal got Hutch to guide him inside with a soft nudge, "C'mon, Starsk. Let's do this and get out of here."

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 3

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Hutch helped his curly partner to seat in the armchair just at the corner of the living room. It looked comfortable and the armrests were already preventing his fall while he listed slightly to the left side.

"Whoa..." Hutch instinctively lunged forward to catch him before he toppled over.

"M'good... " Starsky was already struggling to sit up, his movements slow and uncoordinated, the frown of concentration telling the blond how hard his friend was trying to tough it up.

"We would appreciate some help here, people!" Hutch hurried the two medics.

Hutch's initial glance took in Starsky's filthy, dusty looks, the blood smeared messily on his hands and arms, his general pallor and distress too evident. Starsky grunted dully as one of the medics peeled back the ragged edges of his torn jeans before cutting them open. His right leg was a mess. From his position behind his friend, Hutch got a glimpse of torn flesh, bright red blood glistening wetly on skin and fabric, still welling sluggishly from deep gashes. The thought of having forced him to walk all the way over there was like a punch to his stomach and left him breathless until the voice of one of the medics grounded his thoughts to the here and now.

"Please help us to get him up. We better have a 360º look at him now. You'll be surprised how many wounds pass unnoticed in a horizontal examination. You said over the phone he was shot?"

"I am he—here too... You can talk.. to me." Starsky let his weakly voice be heard to no avail.

Blood was still slowly pouring from the most ragged-looking wound, too big for a rat as Starsky claimed all were, more of a big dog bite, Hutch tought. It wasn't difficult to see if you ever worked in an ER for as long as Hutch had. His most dangerous wound, the bullet one, was smallish and circular in shape, not a big caliber. The doctor of the medic team leaned in closer and palpated the area around the injury, Starsky grimacing and stifling a grunt of pain. For what Hutch could see and in his medical experience and Starsky's symptoms, it would seem his partner had been incredibly lucky but there was however a lot of muscle and tissue damage and he had lost a lot of blood. That leg wound would be an unexpected hurdle for his initial plan but that was that and Hutch allowed himself to relax over his friend's condition.

"Entry but no exit hole in his shoulder. In a way it's better, the exit wound is usually a butchery. We can do a clean job here with the surgery when we get the bullet out, will know more later."

The growing tension was made palpable at the trembling muscles of Starsky who could hardly control the urge to get away by then. Hutch instinctively adopted a protective stand by Starsky not just helping to support his weight but almost embracing him against his chest.

"Lay on me, pal... Let go now... Let go...." Hutch muttered. "These people should take care of it. You just let go." Hutch intervened. What he was seeing as the different pieces of clothing were removed, one by one uncovering new animal bites in different sizes, was revolting his stomach and he was increasingly aware that there was much more behind the cold recall of information that his partner had feed him over the phone just a few hours ago and the realization of this finally started to worm its way deeper into Hutch's mind.

He knew he had to take over the con from then on, let his own medic mood from the past take over and push his emotions aside for his own peace of mind as well as for the sake of his curly haired friend but he felt was not ready as long as pain, fear and a desperate need of comfort kept oozing out of those deep sapphire eyes that were piercing his just then.

"You're good, Starsk," he encouraged him smoothly, "let's get you to the stretcher and get you sorted out. It's OK now. You are gonna be OK." Hutch turned to the two figures in white by their side "Come on, people... Are we ready?"

"Okay. Well let's see what we can do about that", the senior one offered nodding to his aid to resume the final preparations in that improvised operating theater they had previously readed on that room and start cleaning their hands in the kitchen.

Hutch was deeply moved by the feather like touch of Starsky's open palm over his face in a silent loving gesture of gratefulness and respect for the man. Hutch looked at him briefly his eyes slightly watering before resolutely getting hold of the curly's hand and passing his arm over his shoulder to drag him forward, walking him to the stretcher where Starsky reluctantly lied over with his help. He huffed out a pained breath as he set himself down, his chest rising and failing unevenly as he tried to breathe through the pain of stretching his many open wounds.

"Okay." The doctor's voice was tight. Many patients in his situation would relax once they reached the infirmary, the adrenalin of their perilous situation draining rapidly once they felt they were somewhere safe, but his patient now was still tense and uncomfortable, stubbornly holding his head up from the stretcher. He had remained still as he cleaned, proved and poked again in his different injuries to confirm his initial assessment but his posture was rigid, his fingers curling around the metal frame and the green blanket beneath him; his breathing was still rough and uneven, hitching now and then with pain at these initial ministrations.

Hutch had watched stonily while the first doctor carried over his final exam, Starsky's face pulling into a grimace every so often. By the time the aide had set an IV and a saline drip on his friend, Starsky's breathing increased, interrupted by coughing. He was shaking, bad. Hutch leaned his forehead against the side of his head to speak directly into his ear, to reassure him that he would be all right. Each time, Starsky nodded. But when Hutch lifted his head to look directly at his face, he saw something more than pain, something he couldn't just grip what it was but that disturbed him more than his best friend present distress.

Starsky struggled to lift his head one more time to see what the doctor was doing. Hutch got closer and moved behind Starsky's at a silent indication of the leading medic there could use some help calming his patient down as Starsky seemed to grow increasingly restless, short spasms cursing through his limps, his head stubbornly raised from the stretcher.

"Do you remember where we were a month ago, Starsk?" Hutch asked him while the younger medic slid the oxygen mask over Starsky's anxious face, "Look at me, look at me. Think of that beach we went during our vacation, the one of the golden fine grain sand?" Starsky's hand made a weak attempt to slap the offending object out of his face immediately blocked by the aide attentive eye. "Keep looking at me, keep looking at me, pal." The doctor started plunging down the anesthetics into Starsky's hand IV port and Starsky's muscles tensed involuntarily at the strange shiver than ran through him, making him grimace and hunch forward. It was an odd feeling, a flush of heat washing over him, strange and uncomfortable; the sensation that was spreading fast of not being able to control his own body was downright such a no-go for him that made Starsky set his jaw with a pained grunt, struggling for control in what he knew was a lost battle. "Starsky, let go now. Go to that beach, go to that beach, buddy."

"Why he is not in la-la land yet?" the younger aid asked.

"He is too tense, too much adrenaline still pumping through him. He is not cooperative. Give me the second one." By then Starsky's breathing was ragged and huffed and his heart hammering uncontrollably against his chest. "Tell your friend to ease on down or he is gonna be shocky in a minute if he escalates like that."

Hutch laid one of his hands over Starsky's forefront and one on his uninjured shoulder, and Starsky finally gave in to the pressure of Hutch's hand, his head dropping back. "You heard the man, sunshine. Come on. Just lie still now. Let them get you fixed up as good as new...", the eyes that met Hutch's were filled with pain and fear and said more than words ever could of his present distress, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted for breath through the plastic mask, his face set and tense. "Breathe slowlier... It's OK now... I know you are in pain, but these guys are gonna take good care of that now and you'll slip down to an easy dream in no time. That's it. Breathe slowly. I know it's not easy but try to relax..."

Starsky nodded imperceptibly and looked away, down at his legs, twisting the edges of the cover under him through his fingers. Hutch realized he had been premature in thinking that Starsky would handle this well, that just between the two and in no more than 48 hours they would have solved all that hell that broke loose those last hours and close that door for ever. His partner had always had a hate of hospitals and medics in general and he had never seen him panic like this before.... but then...how should be expected to react someone that had gone through such a terrible ordeal as Starsky's bite marks, cuts and gashes were bearing proof to.

After the doctor injected the second dose, Starsky tried to shake off the dizziness, he needed to let Hutch know. Now. He owed him, he needed to tell his partner the truth just then, just in case he... The next thing he was aware of was overwhelming exhaustion and a lingering ache in the centre of his right shoulder; it felt like someone had punched him, hard and then, nothing.

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TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: "One more step"

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Starsky felt utterly limp and wrung-out, every muscle in his body aching and sore but he felt surprisingly okay… just really, really, really tired. Did that mean it was over? Was it all? He thought about opening his eyes but simply couldn't sum up the required energy. Then the old familiar blond's aftershave greeted him a silent welcome back. Just trying to turn his head towards the source of that comforting smell required a huge effort and his voice came out as little more than a sigh as he breathed roughly, "How'd...it ... go?"

A hand patted his shoulder reassuringly and Hutch's voice, sounding oddly rough and breathless, told him, "You did fine, man."

"Hutch... huh... need... dzee... ra--bies..." . He really wanted to open his eyes and sit up and find out exactly what was happening but his body was feeling stubbornly dull. He felt a restrictive hand on his stomach. After all Hutch could finally let out a relieved sigh. That was the Starsky he used to know, the one always trying to be ahead of things, not cool at all times, but thinking for good.

"Don't worry, pal. It's done. They gave you the first round of rabies shots a while ago and you got infiltrated all around the bites. I've got the second and third rabies dose vials with me. Got them in my pocket. All is being taken care of. You just rest now, we would need to be moving in a little while."

"It's... gonna... be... huh,... okay... then, right... hein...?"

Hutch glanced down, a little surprised. He'd never heard such a note of uncertainty, of fear, in his friend's voice. He wondered again what it must have been like for him, wounded, trapped, bleeding out, feeling himself getting slowly weaker and not being able to do anything so as not compromise their delicate situation, waiting for him to make heads or tails of it.

"Yeah," he reassured him, feeling Starsky's stomach muscles tense under his hand. Casting a quick glance at the medical team and seeing them readying themselves to go, he took on himself to gently clean away the smearing traces of blood all over Starsky's body. "You need some serious rehab," he qualified distractedly as he worked, adding as he straightened, "but you should, you know, live to fight in the streets another day and all that." Hutch dropped the bloodied cloth onto the tray and grabbed a fresh gauze pad, taking a moment to soak a little antiseptic onto it from a small bottle to take care of the little cuts and scrapes that apparently had been left untreated. "I'll take good care of you. Rest some, buddy."

Starsky nodded and Hutch saw the tension in his body relax just a tiny bit, a sigh of relief lost in the too-rapid shudder of his breathing, The curly's head felt incredibly heavy and the exhausted lethargy of his body was rapidly turning into drowsiness. He wanted to stay awake, to find out what had happened with the bullet inside him, but it seemed his body had other ideas. He was distantly aware of Hutch's hands gently rearranging his limbs; he felt oddly embarrassed at that but couldn't summon up the energy to protest and just indulged himself in the welcomed warmth of the blanket that his friend used to cover his body.

Voices were murmuring somewhere and he could hear Hutch's voice and the doctor's and maybe the aide's too but he couldn't pick out the words. Something was clicking nearby, a slow, regular beat, and he let the rhythm lull him into sleep.

"We are running out of time here, sir. We have to leave. We'll help you get your friend to the bed, and take with us the stretcher and our instrumental. The rest you should take care of yourself. It's not included in what was agreed on. By the way, you have to be out by tomorrow evening, it's all we could do. We have done our part."

"You did. Give me some more morphine."

"No, sir. This is something you do not need and we are not going allow any unnecessary risks."

"I need it to leave him out of the count for a few hours if necessary. He needs to rest. You have seen how quickly he's got out of the anaesthetics. You hardly had time to finish the surgery on him. There is no risk for you. Nobody will know you gave it to me."

"Nope. We've risked too much already with the second dose. Your friend here does not respond well to usual anesthetics that's the point—"

"That's why I am going for the morphine."

"Your friend's awkward response before... morphine might as well kill him depending on his vitals at a given moment and we won't be here to monitor him. You said you had some medical training yourself, then you must understand. My brother and I agreed to help someone in distress but that doesn't imply we won't act in the best of the interests of him as a patient. We do not do harm to others."

"OK. OK. Got your point."

While having the final assessment from the medic team, Hutch had turned their attention back to Starsky's only exposed wound, bending low to look closely at the tearing of the raw flesh. "What about this one? Are you gonna leave it just like that?"

"This is gonna stay as it is. Right the way it is now, it will be the one wound that will give you and your friend here more trouble. Not the bullet one. This is a big animal bite. It is almost sure it is infected and deep as it is I cannot suture it as I would have only concealed the future infection. And that could be fatal. The right thing to do is wait for the infection to set in, and then go on pressing hard or using a lancet to empty all pus pouches cleaning the wound in depth. Push in a little gauze when you are finished and that's that. You would have to repeat the procedure once and again several times until the infection recedes. Follow the penicillin protocol all along." Hutch covered again his partner leg, his face composed, fiercely trying not to let go yet all his bottled emotions until those two were out of sight. "Quite a painful procedure for your friend, I understand, but the best course of action. You can pour some lidocaine over the wound before you proceed, that will dull it a bit. In time, the flesh will well up and it will be healing just fine. Believe me. It's the best you can do for him."

"But that's a procedure you will only use if you get lost at the Rocky Mountains. Are we really having this conversation?" Hutch pressed.

"It quite looks like your friend had been some place wild if not in the Rocky's by the way he is chewed up. No pun intended," the young aide intervened before the older one called him to order with one single commanding look.

"Sir. We wouldn't we talking just here, just now, if you were in a position to use "civilized" resources. But if you feel your situation has changed, then go to a hospital and get your friend treated properly there. It's your call. I am just giving my advice on the best course of action if you'd rather keep your present low profile. Understand we are here to repay someone who I understand has some dues to you too, so let's leave this "chain of favors" situation end here and now, and forget we ever met."

When the door finally closed and after he made sure Starsky was comfortably set on the main bedroom bed, Hutch hurried to shut off all lights leaving only the dim clarity of a nearby street lamp bath the apartment. He needed badly the cold balm of shadows just then, the words of the aide still resounding on him, the sudden realization that those two long but shallow cuts along Starsky's stomach could have been made on purpose as an appetizer to trigger the whole set of little and not so little bites all over his friend... And then, his first attempt to answer a simple "why" dropped the bad news like a bomb prematurely. _Oh, Starsk... What did you do? What did you do?_ _Nobody knows what he is capable of before he's pushed into a corner_, he thought bitterly. _Nobody_.

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TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 5

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

The clicking was gone when Starsky woke up again. He surfaced slowly from dreams of deep scary forests and walking tress and lay for a moment without moving, just taking stock. He still ached all of him so much he couldn't pinpoint where it hurt more but the heavy lethargy was gone. He wondered how long he'd been out. And what he'd missed… had them been able to get rid of the bullet, would his leg be the same after this? He surprised himself not to have awakened into the terrific awe of reliving just that day. But he was not so lucky the second time he dozed off.

_The sharp incisors dug deep into his flesh and there was a horrible sensation of pressure, pulling. A ragged scream was torn from his throat as the black dog began to try and drag him through the dirty soil. The animal's breath was hot on his flesh as it gripped him firmly in its mouth, __threatening to rip his whole leg open knee to toe. _

"Get off, get off!!!". Panic pushing his voice high and breathless brought him back to his present reality. Oh fuck it hurt. Used as he was to react immediately at any danger situation he woke up to the crude realization that it was Hutch the one making him hurt so badly.

"Please be quiet! Shsss. Shsss. We've to get moving. Now!" Starsky bit down on a yelp as Hutch pressed a dressing firmly against the open wound, pushing down hard. By the time Hutch had pulled the fastenings, securing the bandage in place tight enough to keep pressure on the gaping wound, Starsky was sweating, his ashen face twisted with pain, but managed to stifle enough the new growing cry born from pure agony.

He was breathing heavily as Hutch silently wrapped the second bandage over the worst of the gashes on his leg, his movements efficient and practiced as he swiftly tied off the dressing. Hutch' gaze was solemn as he watched Starsky struggle with the pain and Starsky wondered hazily how many times Hutch had had to dress other people's wounds without letting his feelings get in the middle.

Hutch helped Starsky to slide up some clean sweat pants a simple cotton T-shirt to finish by lacing himself Starsky's sneakers and offered his partner a hand to get smoothly to his feet.

It took the two of them to get him upright, Hutch did most of the work. He managed to pull Starsky to a sitting position and then, crouching carefully beside him, he slung Starsky's left arm around his shoulders and, slowly but mercilessly ignoring his friend's growing distress, lifted Starsky up with him, trying not to put to much stress over the heavily bandaged bullet wound on his friend's shoulder. Starsky grit his teeth against the pain as he was pulled upright, his head pounding dizzily as his blood pressure got reacquainted with gravity. For a moment or two he hung limply from Hutch' shoulders like a rag doll, white-faced and trembling, his right leg almost folding beneath him as he struggled to find his balance on just one limb.

Hutch gave him a moment to catch his breath but Starsky could sense his partner's impatience in the tension of the firm shoulder beneath his arm. Starsky tried to shake off the dizziness. They needed to get out of here. Now. And in silence. That's what his friend has said that's all he needed to know.

He pulled himself up straighter and tentatively tried putting his weight on his bandaged right leg and almost failed to bit down on a curse. He'd never known a pain like this. It flared and burned all along his nerve pathways until it arrived shrieking in his brain so rapidly his vision swam. His left leg gave way too under him and he couldn't hold in a sharp cry. He felt was in a far worse shape than before being treated.

Still firmly holding Starsky's arm across his shoulders, Hutch wrapped his right arm around his waist and effectively dragged him forward, bearing as much of his friend's weight as he could. It was excruciating. Every motion jarred Starsky's leg and caused dark spots to crowd at the edges of his vision. He was practically a dead weight as Hutch manhandled them through the dark alley and onto a new car that Starsky didn't recognize as one any of their common friends could have lent. Starsky's head sagged forward as soon as he could painfully accommodate himself in the back seat, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"Starsk...? "

"Right... here... Not going... any---where...." Starsky felt despair tighten in his throat as he noticed that the dressing around his leg was already staining the grey sweat pants in red; he felt hot, and dizzy and as miserable as he never felt before but above all missed the odd comfort of some friendly exchange with his buddy, the blond's demeanour so detached and cold that Starsky would rather excuse it as the product of his pal working purely on adrenaline, the survivor in him commanding, no leting other feelings impair his judgement just then. "M'good..."

"You holding on in there...? We are alright now. It's OK now. We are heading to somewhere where you could rest for real and get better."

"Dob—bey...?"

"He is better left on the dark on this one. Try to get comfortable and rest some. You still are under the effects of the anesthetics. Give it some time to settle down and it should be OK."

"K... M'good... M'good..."

During the next hours, Starsky was vaguely aware of motion. He woozily realized that he was still lying down and yet he couldn't shake the sensation of motion, of air moving past him as he travelled. He felt hot, his head was pounding, his mouth dry. A car, he was in the back seat of a car. He wanted to open his eyes but couldn't seem to dredge up the energy. Music buzzed in his ears, oddly muffled, the words floating over him and around him. Sometimes Hutch was talking to him but consciousness kept being slippingly elusive to him and he sunk again into darkness.

Next time he managed to surface to a certain awareness, a soft moan brought Hutch glancing back again at his friend. "Hey, can you hold on just a bit longer Starsk? I wanted to get us a few towns over before we stopped. I'm pretty sure there won't be anything for the locals to connect us to that fire we lit, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Are..we...o--kay..?." Starsky's voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it.

"Yeah buddy, we are ok now and you're safe. Just relax; we'll be arriving in a few minutes." Hutch watched as sapphire eyes cracked open briefly before falling closed once more. The blond realized his own voice was filled with concern but also a touch of anger. Soon he could get out of his stubborn pal what exactly brought him to put both in such a life threatening danger, but not just yet. A moment of panic hit him, but no, Starsky's condition wasn't that serious.

He had to find a discreet motel quickly and get the curly some water and his meds soon. His friend couldn't afford to lose much more strength but the pressing need to put a safe distance between them and his growing problems was foremost in his mind and a question of plain survival. He was cold. He could feel his body shivering but couldn't seem to stop the motion, couldn't make his muscles stop trembling. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, his thoughts tangled and disjointed. His body felt heavy. He was so cold. A lone tear fell as he got back to his previous musing and the final realization on how badly he'd probably screwed up his friend's life. That he did it for the greater good just brought fresh pain to his already fragile soul.

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TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 6

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

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His first awareness was of sound; a low, repeated rumbling, growling sound. It sounded close. The noise nagged at him, hovering on the edge of his consciousness, just loud enough to distract him, to prevent him from slipping back into the comforting darkness. Sensation came back slowly to drag Starsky into the world again, a world of sharp pain calling for his immediate attention.

Awareness of his surroundings, the growing sounds of a thunderstorm, filtered in slowly as he drifted in the semi darkness, trying to focus his wandering thoughts, to tune in. He remembered snatches of the past few hours. Hutch practically carrying him into the room, the excruciating process of cleaning again his still so tender wounds and then putting some new stitches on the puffed flesh of the ones that popped during their escape. Hutch forcing him to drink an extremely sweet juice that make him feel nauseous just at the smell of it. His own distress at realizing what a little control he had left over his own body when he found himself softly crying of pure relief when his blond partner had finished with his ministrations...

He looked around the empty room. The other bed lay there unslept in, the bathroom door remained open—the room within dark. No lingering smell of the familiar after shave. Then he gazed down at his right shoulder and winced as the slight movement brought fresh pain. His leg was elevated and an icepack still rested against his left knee. A quick bright flash of lightning followed by a loud crack of thunder make him jolt and panic hit him as he realized he was alone.

"Hutch?" Starsk croaked his lips dry and his tongue seemed to have swollen too thick for normal. Still, there was no answering call, no worried overprotective partner hovering over him asking him if he was okay. A vague memory of the blondie's pained eyes on the verge of tears parting his a few hours ago surfaced just to add to his present anxiety. The eyes of Hutch had given it all away in the fraction of a second, the so dreaded knowledge that his friend, his brother, finally had the whole of the picture:

"_All those are rat bites__, not Tony's dogs, Starsk... And those two large cuts you did them yourself as an appetizer so they all could see at ER and got included in an official report. Just that I didn't take you to ER. You did this to yourself! You gave yourself away...!? Did you? You had to do it your way. You had to do it on your own!" Hutch had pushed back away from the table and stood in front of him, lifting the little folded piece of paper Starsk had given him before "This is worth nothing now."_

The brunet couldn't help but wondering how he could ever look Hutch in the face again after this and not feel guilty and in his dried and hurting eyes a little tear of remorse just rolled down his temple clearing out his path.

Most of his vital stronger experiences came from his life in the military. Although that was a part of a previous life that he was proud of, he was good at keeping the mental image saying his life in the military was just that "another life", a life that was not his anymore, a life that couldn't hurt him because it didn't exist anymore, that the terrible things that he saw and experienced there could be left behind deeply buried, so they couldn't not haunt him no more.

It was the US Army who taught him how to react under enemy fire: you dash to make yourself a hard target, you get down, you crawl into a fire position, find the enemy, set your sights at the range and fire. Then he learnt that it all goes to shit when you're actually under fire. He had found himself on the floor wanting to make the biggest hole possible to hide in. It was a natural physical reaction. The rational side says get up, look to see what's going on and start fighting. The emotional side saying, stay there, maybe it'll all go away.

White hot pain raced down his limbs as he tried to move them. The torn flesh screamed grounding him back to the bed and to his present reality.

Hutch was damn right. He left himself be attacked and bitten by the rats in that horrific cellar when he could have run for his life just then. But it was after big Tony had had what he wanted from him quite easily from the start. The first of Tony's dogs bite enough to shatter all his will and determination, blind fear and panic totally taking hold of him. All the long buried memories of his past flooding his very soul, all the words he would never say on his own volition flowing freely from his mouth. And he had been totally unable to stop any single one of them, those betrayal words never quite making it through his mind to keep Hutch from harm.

"_I don't care Starsk—I had to learn how to take care of my back 24/7 for four months—no help—no cold rags—just me facing…" _Hutch had looked away after it refusing to complete the sentence. And then the blond placed his hand on Starks's arm his partner's agitation obvious. "_Me and thy, me and thy... It's Ok now. You are safe. We are safe._"

"_The eyes give so much away"_, Starsky mused, "_and I always could read yours quite well, blondie_". And Hutch's eyes had had such a deep hurt oozing while renewing their friendship bond with those words just then.

Starsky breathed slowly at the fresh raw memory, carefully, letting the pain ebb and that painful image to fade throughout the flashing of lightning, cracks of thunder and now pouring down rain. His head felt incredibly heavy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the darkness back but he couldn't let himself go just then, he needed to shield himself before facing Hutch again. That much he learnt as a POW in Vietnam.

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TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 7

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Soldiers do not talk about failures. If you mess up, everyone knows it, but nobody ever says so. There is no discussion. It is understood that you will be back into battle and either you do not mess up again or you die. You climb back up on the horse, if you will. Maybe at night, when you are all alone, you think about it a little. But you keep it to yourself. Always.

And when the balance is lost, each man looks inside for the cause. Drive himself crazy in the process.

"Yesterday..." Starsky took a shuddering intake of breath, "...when I woke up and you weren't here...", he interrupted himself letting out another shaky breath and turning his face away from his friend.

"I returned the diamond you gave me back to the custody warehouse in Bay City. That's what I did. Now the consignment is whole again. Nobody saw me, nobody knows. We are safe on that side. I even got rid of the paper you used to wrap it. It was a stink bomb, man." He teased the curly, "Don't tell me where you choose to stick that band aid you used to hide it, I'd rather not know."

Starsky fisted the bed covers in pain as he made small choking sounds in an effort not to scream or moan while his friend carefully dabbed his deepest wound.

Hutch stomach cringed at his friend's brave attempts to tough it up. "Do you want me to stop. You can drink some and settle down before we..."

"It's not... like I haven't been hurt... before..." Starsky smiled at him and nodded his consent to go on. "I don't want to lie down anymore." He started to sit up. The blond grabbed his wrist to help and could feel the tension in his arm, the fist clenched where he held onto his friend's wrist, the arm trembling, all of him shaking. Starsky took a deep ragged breath and pulled his arm away. It was a new reminder for Hutch that there was something more to it than a failed mission. Something he could not yet grasp.

"Don't fear the fear, Starsk," Hutch almost pleaded him, reading his mind as always. "It's all part of the journey. And we would do it together. Side by side." Starsky wasn't sure at all whether his friend was talking about the worse part of the painful dance they had been doing those last two days about to start or about what happened between the two that fatal day which was ripping their unusual bond apart. "Tell me you're willing to go there with me because you trust me."

"God, Hutch... finish this... I can't take much more..." Seating on the edge of the bed, by his friend's side, Hutch took him by the back of his neck and accommodated him against his shoulder, head down, to have a good view of the bullet entrance wound on the curly's shoulder.

"Just some alcohol and the gauze, it is almost clean. No need to press much for any filth to come out today. It's healing nicely, you hear?" The brunet's interior shielding walls were still burning with pain, ready to crumble down. Starsky froze, panting, waiting out the hurt. The worst of all the cure, the final bridge, although it never lasted long; he just had to breathe. "Do it quick."

"All right—all right…" Hutch said softly, maybe more for himself than for Starsky's benefit, the uncontrollable trembling of his friend body replicating in his chest. It was so far from all right.

"Deep breath... exhale slowly... " Hutch forced himself to ground to reality as he fought the vertigo it caused the scare of that initial moment when he knew his friend would feel his soft fingers curling around the still so raw wound, the slightest of pressure bringing in new fresh waves of pain crashing over him. "There we go—there we go... Hang on there, buddy... Hang on..." The brunet slid sideways for a moment his body screaming at him to get away but there was nowhere he could go that was safer than Hutch, was there? And, instead, he grabbed the blond' shirt as his life depended on it.

After Hutch had poured the alcohol and started pressing the new gauze inside Starsky's shoulder gash, he instinctively wrapped his left arm around the curly's head, pressing it against him as a sort of comfort for the worst of it, keeping him quiet. "I am sorry, I am sorry..."

Soon Starsky righted himself as his friend continued to clean the blood that his hard ministrations caused. Hutch helped him to sit further forward until his head was almost resting on Hutch's chest. He could feel how badly was the curly still shaking but his muscles seemed to be relaxing and he released his desperate hold on Hutch's shirt. The blond finished bandaging that shoulder and carefully laid his friend back down on the bed, covering him with the blanket.

"World is spinning around here, huh…?" Starsky felt a final squeeze as he moved his right arm over his left, trying to turn on his side to escape Hutch's enquiring eyes. He gazed blearily at the figure of his friend as he moved his hands to help him.

"No.. Don't." Starsk said, breathing accelerated with his heart. The blond mentally braced himself for what might come next.

"I can't go on.... I can't go on..."

"It's Ok... It's OK. I've got you... I'll take care of everything. You are doing good, kid... Hang in there. "

"No... I quit... I gave up on you...."

"I guessed that much and I told you I don't care. Nothing is final. You couldn't slid the mark diamond on Big Tony's pocket and my cover is blown. So what? Just two facts we have to face and keep on going... " Hutch watched as those deep indigo blue eyes closed softly on him and decided to not push the issue further on that side.

"Do you think I could just forget about those poor four kids dead and their families more dead than alive forever... You are thinking: all for nothing. That fat criminal bastard using all of us, our taxes, against ourselves and the best interests of the community... I know how you feel. It was my idea in the first place just bending some to make ends meet. But, Starsk, maybe we shouldn't have started all this and destiny has given us a second opportunity to do things right like we should. I didn't feel good stealing proofs out of our own safeguard warehouse to plant them on a suspect."

"I gave up in Nam and I gave up on you here."

"What it's Nam to do in all of this? Why Nam now, Starsk?"

"You shouldn't have covered for me. You had to take me to the hospital."

"What? So that you would be facing a court right now and even get prison time? You know quite well they have to report bullet wounds. It was you who taught me that real teams do not leave people behind." Hutch saw his opportunity then, Starsky's increasingly quieter breathing telling him his friend's attention focused on him not in his own world of pain. "Did you think for a moment on the devastating effect over the whole of the department and the corps, all that honest people when the press would get its claws on your story and would make account of all the holes in it?"

"I--"

"I know you made that phone call to have me by your side immediately and out of Big Tony's reach. That you thought about get him busted for torturing an agent of the law and you just made it more dramatic for the good measure. Only a few know how Big Tony uses his dogs against his enemies and everybody at the department would have believed you, and then try to plant the diamond on him a second time while in our hands. You didn't care or think about anything else than save my hide and try to take down Big Tony. Wasn't it what all you had in your head then? But you should have counted on me instead playing mother hen, Starsk. I would have told you it could never work. I've learnt quite a few things on those four months undercover. One of them, being that Big Tony's payroll is larger by far than we thought."

"I'm sorry.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Starsky kept repeating in such a heartfelt whisper that it broke Hutch's heart. "I'm sorry.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"Open your eyes, sunshine. Look at me. (...) Look at me. I'm fine... See? It's OK. Big Tony didn't get me in time. I watch my own back 24/7 when undercover... Look at me, for God's sake.... Look at me. I am all right and so are you. We are a team. And we have been brave enough to go back in time and redo our wrongs. No worries. No harm done. To anyone..."

"Oh, shit... I.... Sorry, sorry, sorry..."

"Hey-hey-hey. I need you to focus. You hear me? I need you to take care of your part now."

"I can't."

"You can't but you'll do it. We have to have you back in a passable shape in no time. We have to report to Dobey the day after tomorrow and you should be able to walk with your usual strutting and do not show any kind of signs of stress on you for a few hours a day or a lot of people is gonna pay for our mistake."

Starsky accepted with a slight nod. He let his head fall sideways for a brief moment before looking up at his friend's sky blue bright eyes.

"Go to sleep now... I'll watch over you.... That's it... that's it... Do not fight it. You are tired... Sleep... Get some rest. We will solve it together. Me and thee, remember? Nothing has changed."

_Soldiers did not talk about failures. If you messed up, everyone knew it, but nobody ever said so. There was no discussion. It was understood that you went back into battle and either did not mess up again or you died. You climbed back up on the horse, if you will. Maybe at night, when you were all alone, you thought about it a little. But you kept it to yourself. Always._Starsky was still that young soldier that he so hard had tried to bury down, deep down himself.

"Starsky...?" Hutch called cautiously. "Dave..." Satisfied at the lack of any visible response, Hutch went to the bathroom, his walking stiff, feeling exhausted. He bent over the sink with his elbows on the marble and washed his face, gulping some water in the process. He raised his head slowly to make sure he was able to keep dizziness under control. He took some deep breathes, his knees buckled and he let himself slump to the floor, with his back against the wall, water still running from the tap. Although he tried to relax, he was unconsciously holding his breath. If Starsky could put all his faith in him, still trust him, he could find a way to bring back his own faith too.

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TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 8

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Starsky awoke covered in blankets to his chin, while Hutch was stretched out asleep on the bed next to him. The moment as Starsky turned his head and blinked in his direction, one of the blond's eyes opened and looked him over.

"You need anything?" Hutch mumbled, half asleep.

"No", the curly's voice sounded scratchy and he licked his dry lips. Hutch rolled out of bed with limp exhaustion and slid a hand under his friend's neck. The curly wasn't sure what he was doing until a wet glass was pressed to his lips, and he drank gratefully. Hutch stopped him at half the glass, wiping the dribble from his chin with his finger and drank the rest of the water himself.

"That's enough for now or it'll just come back up and I'm not cleaning up after you." Starsk breathed half a chuckle, wincing immediately.

"Go back to sleep, nurse Kenny..." he said softly.

"You too. Want me to fetch something for the pain before?"

"No. It's OK for now."

Hutch watched from a distance and marveled at the peaceful expression of Starsk's face under the dim light the moment he fell asleep again, he could see him relaxing and it comforted him that he was looking much better. But it didn't last long, unrest creeping in the curly's sleep. It was subtle at first, his head shook back and forth in slow steady movements then his face became a mask of hurt. By the time Hutch got closer, Dave Starsky was softly crying.

"_Không, sų, vui_,... "_Không, sų, vui_,..." Even though Hutch couldn't understand the words but he could clearly feel the muffled terror and pain oozing from that plead and leaned forward ready to pull him out of his fourth nightmare in two days before it scalated further. The moment he touched his chest, the blood curdling, raw scream that unexpectedly broke loose from Starsky's contorted face froze out Hutch on the spot.

Starsky awoke with a start, looking into Hutch's eyes. He reached out to him with his hand and Hutch took it immediately into his making a close fist. They remained like this without speaking for long seconds. When Starsky finally relaxed his grip, just whispered he didn't want to talk, he just wanted to sleep and Hutch let him go without a word. As soon as the blondie faked a visit to the bathroom, he could distinctly tell how his friend started to cry again, his sobs wracking his body, and he couldn't stop his own tears flowing freely.

At midday, Hutch didn't hesitate to wake him. "Am I robbing you of your beauty sleep?" Hutch said quietly, "Come on. Rise and shine. You have to eat something."

Starsky frowned, eyes half mast and glanced down at his own body and winced and hissed through clenched teeth, fighting pain. Nonetheless, he started to pull himself upright. Hutch quickly passed his arm to the back of his friend's neck and then to his back, helping him to lean forward.

He didn't want to deal with his past but it was determined to come back to haunt him. _Damn. Damn dog._ A single bite made it all came back up again. Dogs were good food in Vietnam, but not to the fight trained dog of the commanding officer of the camp. Prisoners were the ones to feed the dog. It had been years since he had dreamed of those days and now he just couldn't stop.

He needed the rest. He didn't want to get sick again with that. The stress of the past few days had not eased. He could tell the continuous pain coiling on his exhausted body was not going to go away fully until he relaxed.

After some lunch, Starsky slept fitfully for another hour. When he awoke Hutch was sitting next to his bed, his look lost to the farthest wall. The dark haired man ran his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes. He wanted…no he needed to talk to the blondie and tell him more about his past. Maybe then the nightmares would stop. Maybe then he could start to heal.

Hutch sat without saying a word. He knew Starsky had to do whatever he needed to do in his own time. Something was going on with him, but Hutch wasn't sure what, he just wanted his friend, his brother, to feel better so he felt compelled to make a first attempt. "You were talking in your sleep tonight: _Jong, sų, vuii_, something like that..."

"_Không, sų, vui_," Starsky stirred and emitted a low moan as the movement jarred his injured leg. "_Không, sų, vui_,... And now you want to know, of course... It means "No, please, stop" in Vietnamese. The first words all POW learn in camps."

"The three most basic pleas of a man being tortured..." Hutch continued and looked at him again. This time, his gaze did not leap back to the wall. Starsk could sense that he was studying him, but his eyes never left his. He stared right back, refusing to break eye contact. He did not even blink.

"You cannot possibly imagine how terrible it was over there…." David told him in a ragged low voice, struggling to keep his emotions under control. "I was so scared all the time… They put us in these cages like we were nothing but animals….and that's all we were to them." He stopped unable to go on as the horrors of the camp flooded back into his mind. "They broke me, blintz….they hurt me so bad. One day I thought I saw God, I even talked to him. Then I said as many prayers as I had learnt but nothing happened. God did not exist for me in there. I was slowly dying. Your body tells you. And you just wish it happens before they come back for you again." Hutch saw a flash of utter awe that had never seen before, not even in those last terrible 72 hours they had shared when all was pain or fear of the pain to come. He kept looking at his eyes. For the first time during those days, he strived to see the man actually laying there, not a patient, he looked at his best friend, his brother in arms.

"I was way past caring, didn't even feel the primal instinct to survive. You know, after a few days the cage was awash with my own dirt and I didn't care anymore. It was always the same routine. They came to beat me I screamed and writhed on the ground, they throw me inside again, retching with agony. My entire world was pain. I wanted it over with. I wanted the pain to stop. Do you understand? Can you?" His last words almost a whisper, the face chalk-white, knotted in pain. Hutch raised and came back with a water soaked cool towel that he passed gently over his face and neck, then rolled it and slipped it under his neck. "No code, no honor... they made an animal out of me. An animal in a cage. And that's what they found when what was left of my team and I were rescued three days later."

"Dave... I cannot--- I wouldn't--- There are things that are better left alone, just behind closed doors. I taught myself long time ago that dwelling on the past you just miss the present. Whatever it is that you are reliving, I just know one thing for sure. You are here. You are resilient. You are a survivor. In the here and now we are each other keepers, Starsk... A tight knit team of two... You were alone in that camp. You are not alone anymore. Here you can say the duress word to me when the pain is too high and you cannot take any more and you know I'll stop immediately until you regain the strength you need to tough it up. (...) You do the same for yourself now. Try and say the duress word to yourself now and just stop this till you heal from your physical wounds. You can do it. And I'll be here to help you through it, all the way... And still will be here when in the future you want to share with me this terrible weight you are carrying, but when the time is ripe, it's time of mind over matter now.

"_Mens agitat molem,..._ mind over matter_..._" Starsky's trembling voice continued, "Funny now that you mention it... Virgil's favourite quote of our West Point officer when he patrolled with us in the jungle, always in Latin... He never had the opportunity to use it again when we were made prisoners... He got his neck ripped apart by the fight dog the fat bastard that commanded that camp sent against him our very first day. That fat bastard knew the concept too for sure. Mind over matter. Fear took over all of us since then and killed the rest of our training, of our instincts. (...) I think I need to rest some more, blintz. I've heard you. Don't worry. Just need to sleep some now. Just that."

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TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 9

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Starksy's fear had spread to the blondie like some kind of virus, multiplying by the hour, while he waited for his best friend to get better. At 4 am, after five hours already without any sleep, as much as he needed it, Hutch was looking at his partners' face through the dim light of the room.

He finally had to close his eyes, the blur of the ceiling fan turning blades making his stomach churn. In the silence of that long night, Hutch cursed this unexpected tainted perk from a case where things were just going from bad to worse.

It was not only the relentless pain growing up on his best friend and making of him more of a stranger everyday, but also the fear of the unknown if he finally decided to get into that dark alley that was Starsky's days in Vietnam. He knew little, very little of that share of his friend's life. And that little he knew was so scary that he had striven all those years that they worked and risked their life's' together to avoid the subject.

He knew Starsky thought he was vulnerable. He was wrong, though. Starsky didn't know as much about Hutch's past either. Hutch never considered that knowledge was an asset. Just then he had a living proof that dealing with the past could be a tremendous hurdle in the present, one that was already wearing Starsky down, as that was the _point_. It was better not knowing and give the other the opportunity to be the resulting person product of that past, and do not burden a friend with one's own demons.

The war again. Starsky didn't talk about 'Nam, but neither did any of the vets he knew. Not to people who weren't there; most of the time not even to each other.

Up to now. Now, he knew he had to face it once and for all, for the curly's sake. He would have to help him to burst open that filth spot and drain it for good, and both would have to live with the consequences of it, with whatever he would find in there about his friend that he'd rather not know or Starsky would not rather have told him, ever.

And Starsky would have prevented that, if he weren't exhausted and distracted by gnawing pain and blood loss. He wasn't on edge almost at all times now. Having dealt with his own past issues himself, he could easily understand how Starsky could have his own buried past crawling on him unrelentlessly, meaning the time had arrived when he had to spill out all the dirt or burst.

All previous nights had been the same, Starsk would start the night calm, relaxed, thanks partly of a couple of tranks pills. From the fourth hour on he would start mumbling and then, in a while, whispering to himself, his face twisting in pain, muscles spasming in response to something Hutch couldn't hear till his whispering will escalate to a keen wail. It was the moment when Hutch would try and shush him at first and do not hesitate to use some intensity later to remove him from that state of mind when the shushing wouldn't work. Normally the wailing would subside to a whimpering sound, tremors racking through Dave's frail body, and Hutch wouldn't know no more whether his friend would go back to sleep or just fake it, as he would fake sleeping himself not to embarrass him further.

It had been a pattern that had been repeating for the last four days. Hutch was expecting that night would be the one of the final breakthrough for his friend and he would be spared having to press out all the filth of that dark spot.

After all, Starsky was fitfully sleeping through his sixth hour, trembling and twitching in his dreams, his breathing ragged, edged with a sound of pain, but not quite a moan, and without crying out in awe and pain. It didn't last much.

He shoved himself to his feet. Dave's face was twisted in pain by the time he was by his bed side, eyes closed tight and he was talking in his sleep. Hutch was beginning to lean toward him when he jumped in response to something he couldn't hear.

"Come on, Starsk. Open your eyes." Hutch shook his partner gently, trying not to jar him awake. It did not help. Starsky jolted upright with a startled yell, his entire body shaking in terror.

"It's OK, Starsk. You are OK. Easy. Easy. Just a nightmare..."

The brunet wheezed out before falling back to the mattress, eyes wide, Then he rolled over on his side and curled up as the once again mumbled to himself and a raw groaning sound escaped from his mouth. He rubbed at this chest with his good arm, as if he was trying to wipe something off, not giving away whether he was fully alert or still dreaming, mouthing words that never made it out in a comprehensive way.

In the morning, Hutch knew better than to shake the curly awake and just called him softly from his bed. "Time to go to school, sunshine"

"M'awake...", Starsky grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"How're you feeling today?"

"Much better. But you don't look so good yourself. You have been awake for how long?" He asked before his leg started demanding his full attention like every morning.

"Not much. Just the last half an hour. Let's go moving... We have three hours on the road, at least." While the blond shove himself off the bed, Starsky rolled over on his side and curled up. He hadn't said anything but Hutch could tell he was in pain from the uneven way he was breathing. He once again seemed to mumble to himself which forced Hutch to lean forward.

"You okay? Pain kicking in again?" His stomach knotted itself up.

The reappearing soldier in Starsky remembered when his old drill sergeant told him during the initial CRW training not to bother and tend to any of their comrades if wounded or need any sort of assistance since that would slow them down in an operation, that he just had to call for the paramedic and signal and go forward without looking back. You linger, your two mates get it. One dead, becomes three. Win the fire fight then deal with casualties.

"Can't," Starsky finally whispered, looking up at his partner, with an undisguised look of anguish, tears welling up in his eyes.

"We'll do it together, I'll help you through it," he answered, but Starsky just shook his head, sucking in a gasp.

"No…can't do it... I am not ready. I'll crash and spill it all in front of everybody."

"You can do it, I know you can... Hell, you invited rats for lunch, you can put up with some discomfort for good... (...) I know you are hurting. In more than one sense. Now you're going home, we are going home, and redressing this case... You can do it. I'll see that you do it." Hutch said firmly to him. "I won't let you fail just now..."

"No. You go"

Hutch cupped his friend's face hard between his hands and made him stare at him. "I won't let you dwell into this useless panic of fearing fear... Pain is just pain and you know how to deal with it, you've done it plenty of times these last days. Pain comes and then goes and that's that... You let pain flow through you knowing that it'll be gone soon enough." Hutch paused for emphasis, before steeling on, "Dobey is waiting for us. Get up now. You walked on your own for 20 minutes yesterday. You can do it today again and just fake a couple of smiles for the good measure while we go into his office. Just that. I ain't asking for more. I'll take you home after that and take care of the rest. I don't think I am asking too much out of you."

"Hutch... "

"What's this all about? Are you all right?" Hutch moved to kneel down beside the bed.

"Not good." gritted Starsk, feeling the pain on his leg raising several notches. "But you've got me enlisted. I am coming. Sorry about before... I---"

"Come on! Quick time now. Rise and shine. Let's talk later." Hutch said nudging him softly on the head, "I'll prepare the breakfast of champions just for you: black coffee and paracetamol," he offered while favoring him with one of the special soothing smiles of his. "Save the socks and sneakers for me."

"Okay," the brunet said quietly. He got out the covers without another word. He loved Hutch, probably as much as Hutch did love him. One thing was for sure, he couldn't have asked for a better friend, a better brother, a better partner. Good old Hutch was having his back again and he had to put himself into Hutch's hands, pushing back that irrational panic he was feeling.

"Sorry about this, pal. I am sorry." The blond smiled proudly back at him from the bathroom door when he saw him painstakingly rise from bed. As far as he knew, Hutch didn't have many people in his life either and treated him like family as he did in turn, since day one. That's why he felt truly ashamed by his previous childish reaction, looking for an emotional easy way out that that did not honor that closeness, that trust. His voice was quiet and raw when he finally spoke to Hutch through the closed bathroom door. "Hey... I'm fine, blondie... I am really sorry about before... I was not thinking straight... Take your time. Have a nice shower. I'll take care of the coffee."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 10

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

"Starsk," he said gently nudging him along the Bay City Police Station.

"Okay," the curly said quietly. He turned and walked through the door without another word.

He had the distinct impression that eyes followed him as he slightly limped down the hall to Dobey's office. _Do guys get stared at this much after a night out, I surely look terrible, _Starsky questioned as he silently resisted the urge to yell at the onlookers. It didn't get much better when he walked into Dobey's office.

Why all the department wouldn't stop staring at them from behind the shades? Of course, everyone in the department knew that Starsky had pushed too much his luck those last weeks, pushed everyone until even Dobey lost his temper with him the last time they met. He'd just finally yell to Starsky not to move on Big Tony until they got the name of his supplier and got him on tape. It was no secret Starsky had fought those orders every step on the way for more than 4 months, unable to keep an eye on his partner, not having news from him and than he had tried to get in touch against Dobey strict orders.

"So, Cap. Here we are, what's the rush..." Starsky demanded immediately which won him a reproving stare from his blond partner.

Dobey looked up at him with that look he had that told you he wasn't in the mood for bullshit. "You have something on your face, Starsky. You better remember to use a napkin from time to time," Dobie commented breaking the silence and the stares between them while the curly cleaned with his thumb some cookie crumbs out of his face.

He'd known Dobey would be pissed as hell; didn't have a choice when it came down to it. He had not obeyed his orders in the end and now his only choice was to put himself into the Captain's hands, pushing back that irrational panic still worming his way through him.

And there had been an edge to Dobey's voice in that previous innocent remark that made him want to get this meeting over with so they could get the hell out. Dobey leaned back with his chair against the wall and fished for something inside his left pocket.

"Hutch. The keys. They're yours. You left them behind when you went under." Hutch stuffed the keyring back into his pocket, with no further remark, like Dobey and himself had already all set between them.

So today Dobey was doing the talking, and obviously he was not in a talkative mood and that was fine with Starsky. Talking would be too risky in his present frame of mind. All he had to do was stand back and look ready to deal with whatever their captain will suggest.

"Detective Hutchinson, you have your orders. I'll suggest you get ready for a further call and rest some in the meanwhile. You look like you need it."

Then Dobey had turned his attention to the closed folder on his desk, dismissing them without a word but for a final "Detective Starsky. Please stay," when Hutch had already trespassed his office door.

"He did held out," Dobey said out of the blue and without looking back at him.

"What?" the curly couldn't feel more confused than he already was.

"You gave me a hell of a nightmare those last weeks to try and get assigned to get his back. You thought Hutch wouldn't be physically or mentally competent but he did hold out. You've worked together many years now and yet you are very protective of one another. It's the same in any war, isn't it, detective? You form lifelong bonds under that kind of pressure."

_"What doesn't add up?" T_he raw feeling of concern Dobey was referring to was just bubbling under the surface again. Starsky had not been very keen on the plan when they had lain originally to get his partner undercover on Big Tony's entourage, and hearing Dobey talk it through in such a patronizing way really got all the alarms ringing.

"He is out of the woods, Cap, right? Is he?" Starsky retorted angrily. His response won him a sharp glance from Dobey that did little to comfort him.

"He said he could hold long enough to get the info," Dobey said nonchalantly. "If I pull him out now I would blow the mission…. meaning all those weeks undercover would have been for nothing. It was his decision then and he is just sticking to it now."

"What? What is this? What are you saying? Have you ordered Hutch going under for a second time?

"He just didn't want you to know so you did not get too tempted to intervene but we are full grown men around and I don't see how that helps."

"Oh, this is about me?" Starsky replied, completely ticked off.

"No, detective. You are not paying attention. Or maybe you are paying too much attention but only to yourself." The "detective" was the indicator that Starsk better kept his mouth shut for good if he wanted all the information. "This is about your partner. Not about you. You did enough to pester us all for nothing, 'cause Hutch didn't need anything of that. All of us just needed you was to play it quiet and put up with his absence. But now you can do something useful and help your partner."

Shit. _Shit_. His hands were in right balls; when he uncurled his fingers the flesh of both palms was embedded with pale half-moons where the nails had bitten the skin. So, instead of snapping out a sharp scolding, that was the last thing he expected to be facing.

"Hutch needs some friendly support at this time. It's not just having the guts to go down that alley again. He's got them. It is that he needs to get rid of all that shit his head is flooded with to go under again. To do a clean start. He needs his best friend by his side right now, accompanying him through this few days he can get his head out of the water and regain some new strength. I can easily see on his face that he is on the verge, about to crash, and we cannot allow it for his own sake. Not that I can't understand it after having Big Tony's Magnum 45 pointing at his head at one point."

For a fleeting moment he felt anger and betrayal both from Dobey and from Hutch. He hated that his friend was keeping secrets from him but he hated even more he could no longer get an accurate read on his brother. It was just before Starsky got struck by a bigger picture of those last few days events, of his huge error of judgment and the real and terrible extend of his acts. A spasm on his leg rattled him from his uneasy stance.

"Read Detective Hutchinson's report before you meet him again. It should help. There. Sorry about keeping you in the dark before. I hope you do respect and honor that I am sharing this with you and do not use it trying to deter him because there is no option for him right now. It's not in my hands anymore."

"Read it in here and get the folder back to me before leaving," Dobey couldn't quite finally cover the worry in his voice.

"Yeah, thanks, Cap." Starsky did his best to sound calm when it hit him that he had been ordered by Dobey to help his brother to meet certain death, but the expression didn't carry much weight in his rearranged face. The subsequent realization that it has been him the one who had given away enough details as for Big Tony connecting the dots, blowing Hutch's cover, his stomach turned over and he swallowed down bile and really wished with all his heart that was just one of his combat nightmares.

* * *

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: "One more step" – Chapter 11

**Author**: IROS

**Fandom**: Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Starsky glanced at the miserable figure of his partner sprawled gracelessly across the overstuffed sofa and shook his head. "Ah, a party without me..." he observed.

Hutch grinned awkwardly with a glazed look and ignored him. Starsk knew a world-class hangover when he saw one. After all, he had suffered through more than a few himself in his partner's company. So, instead of snapping out a sharp scolding, he simply beamed a bright smile in Hutch's direction and continued his idle chatter. "Reckon the party kept on awhile, huh?"

"Don't you have a place of your own?"

"So you sat over bourbon on ice to reflect and bicker, blintz. If you have something to say, man, say it. No need to use a bottle to intermediate. Me and thee. That's what you kept saying to me that these last days," the answering silence spoke volumes.

"Come on... Talk to me."

"Leave me alone. Don't want to talk. Don't want to think. Just let me be."

But Starsk wasn't one to be put off for long. "So I was back in time here, buddy," he called over his shoulder as he trotted into his partner's kitchen. A few minutes later, he re-emerged carrying two steaming coffee cups and a small bottle of paracetamol.

He turned around to see the blonde stumble across the room to the armchair and crash in there and the moment he peered into his eyes knew exactly that some caffeine was not what he probably needed most just then.

Starsky left the two cups over the coffee table and went immediately by his friend side and pulled the other to his feet and accompanied his wobbly walk till the open window. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and Hutch leaned into him, shivering against the night's cool breeze. Starsk felt his shudder increasing and held him closer but didn't move from there.

"Breathe, Blintz.... Breathe.... Deep breaths..." Hutch clenched his hands upon the hard rail of the window sill and kept his eyes firmly focused on the dark tree top in front of him. He hoped his companion would get the hint and not talk to him.

Starsky debated asking his partner again to word what was on his mind but decided to hold off. There was no point pressing him. He loosened his friendly embrace and went for his coffee, in the hope that Hutch would approach him of his own accord.

"Told you I don't wanna talk, don't wanna think,..."

"Am I asking you anything? Breathing does need any thinking?" Starsky had to stare away against the intensity of his partner's stare, looking at him like the one who'd played Judas, just the way he felt.

"You want this all to go away, like it never happened. Let it go, huh? You'd like that," Hutch gestured with his arm, taking in the whole courtyard, the whole city. "Seems like yesterday. It just happened. And you think I should be able to let it go? That's why you came. (...) I won't. They are outside, still outside..."

Starsky stood there and took it, throat burning with the words he wouldn't let erupt. Because what he wanted to say wasn't gonna do anyone any good right now, least of all himself. "And who would protect you?" Starsk started walking his way back to the window to look at his eyes. Hutch smiled weakly back at him. "What they are doing to you stinks, Hutch."

"Yeah.... Oh,...I know that... But that doesn't change the fact that I have to do it." Starsky didn't ask any questions, didn't try and say anything comforting. Didn't try and solve anything just then.

"The Hackman boy-" Hutch tried for neutral and mostly succeeded. "It wasn't our fault."

"Yeah?" Starsky's lips peeled back into a pain grin. "Tell that to his parents."

"All those monsters, those degenerates, we have to deal with, Starsk... " Starsky could barely hold back his urge to cry of pure rage when Hutch addressed him again. "You know I trust you with my life. And that, like true friendship, you only give it once and forever. You did what you could and it wasn't good enough. But I don't blame you and neither should you." Hutch regarded him for a moment and then pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you", Starsk whispered hugging him back tightly.

"Didn't we agree no more chick flick moments just four months ago?" The blonde said, wrapping his arms around him. "Dammit, Starsk, goddamn it, it doesn't work---" The moment Starsky got loose from his friend's embrace he couldn't get any air, his lungs working but nothing coming. He could feel the firm hands that forced him forward so that his head was between his shoulders. He focused on the only working light on the street until his chest eased. "Lemme up."

"Lemme up, blintz..." Starsky managed, pulling against his partner's grip. Hutch released him as the curly straightened up. The room tilted and then swung pendulum-like until it settled back to normal.

"Shit. You were a green beret. You survived the jungle. You've got an incredibly high tolerance for pain... You can get over this." It escaped the blonde's before he had time to consider whether it was the smartest thing to say to someone who is still suffered so terribly from combat nightmares.

"Yeah... And still.... I never ever would have thought I'd do something like that', Starsky muttered. Hutch swallowed, fighting back his alcohol soaked thoughts making it into words again. "Never thought you'd do something like that either", Starsky muttered with a head shake.

"I'm sure you regret it as much as I do right now", Hutch remarked trying not to sound too patronizing.

The curly stared at him, "well, I would wish having regrets about that", he replied. Hutch frowned, that didn't make sense. "That voice in your head... is not your conscience; it's your ego, about not having been better."

The blonde shot a glance at his long time friend, they had over the years spent long periods virtually living in each other's pockets, eaten and drank sharing the same square meter space, watched each other's backs on many missions, so Hutch thought that he knew David Starsky pretty well and could read him but the last few days there had been times when he found he didn't know his friend as well as he thought he did, especially when Starsk's expressive eyes darkened into two unreadable deep blue pits like now.

"So, what's the plan?"

Hutch turned his head sharply at his partner's words, a sly gleam lit his eyes, gulping a deep breath, forcing down the last four months. "I think we both could use some sleep."

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Title:** "One more step" – Chapter 12

**Author:** IROS

**Fandom:** Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

Starsky woke up sprawled over the couch, and immediately directed his eyes to his friend's bedroom. The door was open and there was no trace of him in there, neither did he find him on the apartment when he got up and looked around.

Hutch's bedroom was a mess. The covers were thrown about the bed, half on the floor. A mixture of clothes were scattered on the floor and it smelled. He could smell sweat and stale; it was hot at that time of the year and it increased the sense of damp on the air. Starsky wiped his hand over his face, he knew quite well that was not the usual state of the room. There was pain there; he could feel it in a very physical way. But there was also fear. It was the smell of fear what washed over him when he walked in, moving to open the window and he began gathering together the scattered clothes in a mechanical way. He chucked them on top of the bed sheets and was about to tug the edges out from underneath when his hands stilled. Hutch's pillow had some wet spots and he could easily tell his friend had been crying over it.

Starsky was flooded by a sudden wave of vertigo and nausea, like swinging on the balls of his feet on the verge over a thousand feet precipice, and had to sit back on the couch. There Hutch found him 5 minutes afterwards when he opened the door, the med kit they always wore at their car in his hands.

"Morning, Starsk..."

"Morning,..."

"Got to go in a couple of hours and thought I would like to have a look at that leg of yours before. It doesn't seem it's going that well."

"Why is that?"

"You have been bleeding again... Look at your pants' legs. Did not even notice, huh? Does it still hurt so much?"

Starsky looked down at his right leg, trying to avoid his buddy's eyes. When he looked up, he managed that his face was devoid of any emotion. "It hurts because it's healing. I know. It's not the first time I have been wounded. The shoulder is much better, almost normal."

"How is your head. I think mine is gonna split in two any minute," Hutch said softly as he gently assessed his friend. He winced at the sight as he unwound the bandages. The bite wounds looked horrific and painful but the stitches appeared to be intact. To be on the safe side, he once again gently cleaned the wounds. His largest gash seemed to be fine.

"Don't worry too much, everything seems to be okay." Starsky's voice and demeanor was suddenly so cold compared to last night that sent a chill over his blond friend.

"Hutch, it's all right. You don't need to do this anymore. I will shower now and then I'll put the new bandages myself." Hutch didn't expect such a deceptive answer to his news that he had to go in two hours and he acknowledged none of his partners words. Instead, he noticed how Starsky's hands were firm and steady, almost relaxed over the couch, same hands than in the past days wouldn't have stop shaking. Hopefully it was because the pain had lessened considerably. He moved his other arm over and began to dab with some alcohol the open wounds. "I know it still hurts, just a minute and I'll be done here." He took a moment to glance at the curly and noticed he was not weaving, but had his eyes set on the wound and following his ministrations without giving any sign of suffering or anxiety on the slightest.

"It's okay, Hutch. No need to go so tiptoe about it. You are not hurting me. Just please be done."

"Huh? Who are you? What have you done to my sensitive touchy-feely friend, Starsk? Talk to me, you alien..."

"You know... It was funny when you mentioned yesterday I should be a stronger person for what I have endured in Nam... and I've always felt deep inside that experience made me more weak and fearful. But, yeah, I guess, I learnt a few things there... One of those things that they taught you in the Army is that those bonds made in foxholes are stronger than blood ones, to trust that you wouldn't ever be alone again and that you would never be left behind, never..."

"Truth be told," Starsky followed "all that idealism shattered to pieces the day I saw the Chinook that came to our recue to fly away without me when I was only a few yards to make it... Not that I blame those guys, they were under heavy fire. I might have done the same, but that taught me the real and only lesson to be learned: I was born alone, was about to die alone, I could only rely on me and what I could or couldn't do."

"You know, blintz...? When I had made it into the jungle again, and the adrenaline wasn't wildly pumping through my muscles anymore... when I had cried my eyes out and accepted that I was facing certain death.... I—I-- ... You can say I mentally packed up, said my farewells, and let that jungle take over, I can't explain it to you... I wouldn't commit suicide like so many others did before me in that green hell. Something just clicked inside me and I was not me anymore. I was one with the jungle. And I wasn't to lie down and die. I'd no compromises in me anymore, no more disturbing feelings... I let the most extreme of my training kicked in and was driving me on. I was a beast again, like any other there. Looked human but the animal took over, because the only thing that mattered was surviving. No retreat in the face of battle, no sympathy for the fallen and no mercy to the enemies.... No mercy... My only mission from then on was to stay alive, to save myself.... And I survived..."And Starsky voice sunk into an almost inaudible murmur.

Hutch suddenly felt a renewed wave of warm affection for that man sitting there. That stubborn, difficult man, that friend, his buddy, his brother, who had so much pain locked up inside him that he would never share with anyone, not even him. And that, irrationally, just made Hutch feel even more annoyed by the whole situation. He was skulking out there, trying to get up the courage to go undercover again, while Starsky was telling him just take the bull by the horns in time, giving him the little push he so much needed. But then he had the sensation of suffocating out of shock from at hearing Starsky's heartfelt, whispered plead.

"Don't do it. Beg you. Don't go." Even Starsky got surprised of hearing his own words. It wasn't like him, not thinking first of his duty. His mission. But he couldn't help it.

"To back out was never an option for me, Dave. It never was." Hutch had tried to solve that. He was still trying. He didn't doubt himself, but his mind was beginning to draw blanks when it came to more ideas. Starsk words were making it harder and harder.

"Okay. I had hoped that once you had had some time to think about it, that you'd have come to your senses, but I can see that you are determined to make things as hard on you as possible," Starsky said in a soft, almost inaudible tone. "I am sorry, you are alone then, 'cause I can't back you up on this. And I won't."

He was looking at Starsky, but at the same time, he wasn't. He was seeing the man that had become his brother leaving him to care for himself on the streets. He thought of the many times he'd been punished by his father, and ended up crying alone under the bed in his room. Starsky never, ever, went easy on him, but afterwards – he was always there for him, and it always felt good. He knew he could face anything having him by his side, caring for him for real, like his actual family should and never did."

"So that's the deal," he said to his curly friend. "That was your story was about? I am the one that has to face the jungle on my own now?"

"That's the deal, only… 'cause you won't let me take care of you." Starsky said with a deep ragged sigh. "That just worked for me. It will work for you too."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** "One more step" – Chapter 13

**Author:** IROS

**Fandom:** Starsky & Hutch

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Oops! Errors are entirely mine.

* * *

The broadcast news on the radio reduced all the men in Dobey's office to silence.

_Bay City__ authorities have identified the remains of Anthony "Big Tony" Zucker discovered yesterday in a backyard in the west area, but have yet to identify a suspect in his killing, police told today._

_The victim was linked to a wide drugs and arms dealing ring, as well as was investigated in relation to the unresolved recent slaying of one young Bay City citizen, Mike Hackmann, the police spokesman John Walsh said._

"Full circle, huh," Hutch muttered, clearly more to himself than the rest of them "Guess I have to renew my faith there is a divine justice after all."

"Guess it is," Dobey mumbled back. "Lucky us. Someone saved us a lot of trouble."

Dobey raised his left hand and ran it through his head, seating back on his chair, his eyes rolling up to meet his detective's. A quiet look of understanding passed between the two men.

"Captain, Detective... Sounds to you like a punishment from the inside?" the largest man of the two FBI agents in the same room enquired.

"Sounds like anything. I don't care anymore." Hutch answered nonchanantly.

"We will know in a few days. Let's just see who is inheriting his seat in the club. It will be our first clue. It was a professional job. A sniper. No case shells on any of the rooftops at range to be found. It had been raining all night, that means any additional traces down the drain. Anyone could have hired this job. One thing is for sure, whoever is behind it knew quite well Tony's itineraries. Knew the best place to ambush him."

"Very well, gentlemen. That's that then. Detective Hutchinson. Captain. You have all our gratitude for your collaboration. Will be in touch. Please send us a copy of the report file."

"Will do. Thank you, gentlemen. There is an official car to escort you to the airport."

As soon as the two FBI men left the room Dobey left the comfort of his cushioned chair to face his senior Detective.

"Hutch, what's happening to Starsky? Huggy called to say he was at Huggy's apartment running a high fever and couldn't come to work. He was supposed to be with you. What happened to him? I don't buy the flu thing. It did sound more like a major hangover to me."

"The truth? I wouldn't be surprised you're right, cap. He tried to talk me out of the op. I guess he couldn't stand being around just today."

"Go and give him the good news then."

* * *

_Starsky __stared past the gun that was aiming at him. He stared past Big Tony's trembling hand, his frowning mouth, pouting lips; his frantic voice. To that other familiar face so vivid in his mind, his friend's face. The one that didn't blink an eye, that one that had accepted his fate, that one that was ready to do the ultimate sacrifice out of honor and loyalty. His hand didn't shake when its index finger pulled his sniper riffle trigger and Big Tony fell face down._

Hutch had been waiting for his partner to come around for an hour then. For what Huggy told him, Starsky looked genuinely sick when he came to Huggy's the night before, soaking wet and with a glazed look in his eyes. So Hutch didn't hesitate to keep an eye on his partner's uneasy sleep, waiting silently in the dark in that only piece apartment. In fact, his own high of feeling alive and free again when his near future had looked almost inexistent had worn him out to the point that darkness was more than welcome to lessen his overexcitement.

Hearing now those soft familiar wimping sounds of the last shared nights with Starsky on that lousy motel made him quietly move by his side. For the soft jerks Hutch saw in Starsky's shoulder, and the sound of his uneven breathing, as far as Hutch could tell his friend was softly weeping.

At hearing the escalating of his muffled sobs, Hutch shook his partner gently, trying not to jar him awake. "Come on, buddy. Wake up." It did not help. Starsky bolted up in bed, sweat beading on his forehead, tears dripping down his cheeks, his entire body shaking. "It's okay, Starsk. It's over. It's over. Shhh… It's okay buddy, breathe. Shhh…" The blondie rubbed and patted his friend's back. "It's okay, boy. I'm right here. I'm right here. Easy. Easy. Just a nightmare."

"I... don't have... nightmares." the curly wheezed out, struggling for breath, but quickly brushing out of his face any traces of his distress.

"Feel happy to have just nightmares and not being completely delusional."

"What?! Why? What are you doing here?"

"That's what I mean precisely, wise ass. I shouldn't be here at all, should I? Big Tony? I see you haven't heard of it." Hutch had an appreciative look over his partner. "You look awful... What happened to you?"

" Hutch... I feel sick... And I don't feel like much talking right now."

"Then, you just listen... Big Tony is dead and I am free. Someone make me the greatest gift of my life. All is well that ends well. That's why I am here and not dying the death of the thousand cuts. But you don't see so glad to see me."

"Of course I am glad to see you out of it. Those are great news. Sorry... I really feel sick I can't think straight..." Starsky sounded awkwardly defiant, expecting him to protest and pick up a fight, but Hutch disarmed him with a broad smile.

"Hey... Forget about yesterday. Is that what's eating you?"

Starsky smiled back in a forced grin. "You know me all too well. I am sorry, blintz."

"Don't give it a second thought. It was my fault. I should have never put that burden on your shoulders. You were right. It was something I had to face alone. I couldn't expect you to take my by the hand to my own funeral. I wouldn't have done it."

"There are always options. Lucky us we do not have that concern anymore. (...) I am glad to see you here, blintz. I really do." They fell into silence. The atmosphere in the small bedroom was thick with tension when Huggy came with a tray with coffee for the three of them, in a perfect sense of timing for what Starsky was particularly grateful.

_There were__ always options. Starsky had found his own. Was there such a thing as a mercy killing...? When he had been in the Army, he had to kill. He had to do immoral things. He had no opinion or voice. He had been turned in to a monster of sorts long time ago. Using it on his best friend's advantage had not been easy to decide, but his last resort. But he couldn't stop fathoming if it had been also a selfish act, trying to erase the last remains of having given away his friend, his brother, against an irrational fear that he had been unable to control. That was what had been really eating at him. _

_At least for now though, feeling physically ill was__ a small comfort in his mind. The sharp pain in his leg, the splitting headache took his thoughts away from what had really happened, how he had forced himself down to a forbidden path he never thought he would undertake again. He didn't have to think about his inner torture, how opposite he had been to his own self or to that of the man he had strived to be all those last years._

_There were al__ways options and that had been the one he choose. Big Tony was dead and his brother was safe. He wasn't sure what that made of him but that he would never share with Hutch. Hopefully, like he managed to do so many years back when he had been finally rescued from the jungle, he could forget about this later, not have to think about it, close the door and keep living with it._

_Watching his two dear friends sharing a cup of coffee with him, by his side, __warmed his heart, and that would have to do until he could manage to reverse the reality of what he did. The reality that even killing a monster did not feel right._

_THE END_

* * *


End file.
